The rotten image of the suburban hootchie ma — and by ma, I mean “Hummer Mom” as the lads called her in Livermore — has reached its apotheosis, if you will, in the tawdry and torrid tale of Christine Shreeve Hubbs. It’s as if she became a rite of passage for these teen boys, as they passed her contact information along to younger teammates and brothers as their need became, um, acute.
Why do we let Mormon wives move in next door? And America is worried about married gays and lesbians in on-base housing? What about precious offspring whose lives have been ruined by this heterosexual monster?
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